Fall to Grace
by Feonyx
Summary: The single moment on the Holy Ground of Kharlan is seen through many eyes as one desperate heroine gives all she for what she believes and forever changes the future of the world.


**Fall to Grace**

She fell.

The sword didn't have the decency to fall with her; its human wielder kept his grip firm on the hilt as his half-elvish victim recoiled from the lightning-quick strike. At that moment I had never wanted so much to be half-elvish, like my companions, and not only for their greater mastery of magic. I didn't want to share the blood of this beast who had murdered she who sought only the preservation of life. I wanted to hate all humans, whose arrogance and hatred had started this eternal war.

It was murder, without question, even though I still saw signs of life in Martel. The human's sword was beyond stained, it was drenched, permeated, _imbued_ with her lifeblood, and having slid so cleanly –if the word can be used– from the wound, she would undoubtedly die before we could seal the breach. Too deep. Too close to her heart. And Martel was our healer; only she had sworn the oath to the unicorns of Umacy.

I have been a mercenary all my life, though I am not yet thirty. This is not the first time I have seen the battles of this war, nor the first time I have lost a friend. But Martel is beyond a friend, and I dare to think I have the least connection to her. She _is_ our connection, our unity, and the source of our certainty that we are striving for the right goal– she would not stand for anything less.

Mithos has caught her now, and I cannot bear to look at him, at them. I have a heart, else I would not be one of Mithos' companions, but I have not the heart to look upon such pain as that sundering of brother and sister. Instead my gaze singles out, on this that is mere moments from becoming a field of terrible battle, the one who struck her with so little provocation.

I don't know if she was chosen for so clearly being half-elvish, more so than Mithos or Yuan. I don't know if a Sylvarantine or a Tethe'allan is the focus of my hatred. I can't begin to imagine what this man's life may have been like up to this moment, what has brought him so far from his home, to the most hellish centre of war. Glory or wealth, duty and honor, or to protect his people from those he has been told are savages, evil, wrong– none of these matter to me. There is no grey side to murder.

Friend to Mithos I may be, and paid now in things far less tangible than gold and infinitely more important, still I remain a hired sword.

"Rest in peace, sinner."

* * *

She fell.

Martel... my beautiful Martel... you have always deserved so much more than you have been given... more than I could offer... but this is beyond injustice! To be slain –_murdered_– at the final hour, when we have our best and perhaps last chance to end this vain war...

This is my fault. Mithos was the one who had a vision of a free and peaceful world for all people, without thought to race or nation, but he didn't ask you to come. I remember that day perfectly, and he couldn't have been more concerned for your safety. I was the one who wanted you with us, and how could anyone not, after being graced with a single smile?

That does not excuse me. Nothing does, not even the love that grew between us. Not even the ring that shines on your finger in the sunlight as your brother catches you. Sunlight? Why is the sun shining? Doesn't it know that the my light, the light of all life, is dying? The sky should weep, and the stars wear mourning veils. The earth should shake with terrible sobs, the very heavens should fall out of harmony.

It should not be a day of brightness and open skies. I hate the cool breeze that brings refreshment from summer's heat, and hate myself all the more for enjoying it, however distantly that may be. This isn't even a battlefield yet, although the gathered armies of both continents still stand firm in the face of tragedy greater than any of them can begin to imagine. Soon the final storm of blood and iron will come, and it will mean nothing.

Mana means nothing. Hope has left us, all virtue is dead. The slaughter of thousands is about to occur before my very eyes, but the last life with true value has already been taken. Only emptiness is left, and then everything can end. Martel. It shouldn't have been like this.

"Rest in peace, sinner."

What? Kratos dares to speak, to break the silence as holiness passes from the world? And yet... he has found something. He is right. There is still one thing left in the void. Revenge is in my reach.

Lightning burns in my hand. You wouldn't approve, I know. But soon the injuries of mortals will not concern you, my beloved. And when that is done, and everyone understands this irreversible wrong... perhaps I will join you.

"Come, thunder's fury!"

* * *

She fell.

M–my sister? Don't... be silly, that's not possible. No one would kill her. Martel cares about everyone. She only wants peace and for everyone to be happy. That's why I let her come along. ...And because I didn't want to be alone.

If it weren't for her, I–I'd never have become who I am. I'd never have been strong enough to make all those pacts with the Spirits. She was the one who convinced me that the world could be a different way, and that it was good enough to fight for, even if we could lose. Even if we could die. But... but it wasn't supposed to be her! _I'm_ Mithos! I'll risk my life to save the world, but not hers!

With all the Summon Spirits on my side, even the King Origin and ancient Maxwell, I could _crush_ these armies. I could end the war that way. But Martel told me not to. She told me that when people hate, it's because they're afraid of other people, and that we can't stop war until we can show the ones who start it that they don't have anything to be afraid of. Killing all the evil people won't last, but changing the system that makes them hate can.

That's why we're here, on the Kharlan Ground. They're trying to take control of the Giant Mana Tree, as if that could make it grow again. We're strong enough to hold against both armies, and once we prove that they won't get what they think they want, we can make the kings talk to each other.

But when that soldier came at me, Martel tried to stop him, and he wouldn't listen... I ran to help, but I wasn't fast enough, and now all I can do is make her landing a little softer. He didn't quite stab her in the heart, but I don't think Undine can heal this... there's too much blood already gone.

"Rest in peace, sinner."

For some reason, her eyes don't look sad. They're not shining they way they have all my life, but she looks... happy? ...Oh. Of course. She saved me. She always saves me. Martel saves everyone; from getting hurt, from making mistakes, even from themselves when they can't see how beautiful the world really is.

"Come, thunder's fury!"

Now what do I do? I know I... I can't save Martel. And now there won't ever be anyone to protect me again. I've got... to stop all this myself. Not even Kratos and Yuan can help me, not in this moment. I can use the Eternal Sword...

Of course! I can save her with Origin's power! I won't fail this time, not her. I'll show everyone that we can have peace. That I can do it right.

"It's going to be okay now, Martel."

* * *

I fell.

It was a strange feeling, the invasion of that blade. It hurt, but at the same time, it showed me something greater. My body wasn't my container any more, just the place that I used to look out and see the glory of the world. There was so much more to everything than me and my problems, my hopes, even my love for my brother, and my friend, and my precious Yuan.

The land beneath me stretched for thousands of miles in all directions, rolling on without end, because one end was just where it began for someone else. Hundreds of thousands of people lived on this earth, and every last one of them was just as complicated as me. It was something I had always tried to believe, but I don't know if anyone could understand it until they felt that deep, hidden unity.

Where did this feeling come from? My fingers had stopped sensing the day's warmth, but I felt it more intensely than ever before. I saw Kratos retreat into memory, and hoped that he would find answers and solace there. I wanted to cry out against Yuan's anguish, but the strength for that had fled and would never return. I hope that he recovers, that he loved me enough to understand I wouldn't want to be remembered like that.

The Tree glows. I can't see it with my eyes, to which all light is fading, but still it radiates mana, giving life to all the world. That mana binds us all, humans, elves, those of some combined heritage, and all the animals, the deep forests, even the ageless stone and wind. I've repeated the words many times, "The Giant Kharlan Tree is dying", but only as I follow it do I understand what that means.

They say death is like the deepest sleep, but I had never been so awake in my life. I felt no hunger for anything, not the heat or cold of the world. Blood is still flowing from my body, yet the pain is only a memory. ...It is my Cruxis Crystal that still holds me to the living world, to the endless flow of mana. It is my refuge now... but I don't want refuge. If I hide from this war, I'm a hypocrite, and nothing I ever claimed to believe in is true.

If my life remains in this Crystal, that means it can preserve those who are dying. With the power of this Crystal, there is no such thing as 'beyond salvation'. I can remain here, with those I love... but it has a higher use.

"Rest in peace, sinner."

I would stop Kratos if I could, but I may not have more than one breath left. Mithos still has the power to prevent this battle, but if I fail him now, he'll never be able to end the war.

"Come, thunder's fury!"

...There. That will be my selfish choice. Take your revenge, Yuan, without my objection. Whether you now do right or wrong is not truly for me to decide, but I hope it brings you some peace.

"It's going to be okay now, Martel." Mithos whispers these words to me, and I understand what he wants to do –use Origin's power to reverse time and save me– but I see now that without my sacrifice, our dreams will never take form on this earth.

"No... Mithos, don't... don't use the Eternal Sword..." From his fearful confusion, I know he heard me speak, and I know he'll obey. I'm so sorry to have to leave him like this, still only a child, but that isn't my choice to make. "Achieve... what we all hoped for... Good-bye."

Only the Cruxis Crystal holds my heart and consciousness now. The body of Martel Yggdrasill is dead, and I leave it with sorrow, but no regret. Physical bonds release their holds, and I lift the Crystal from its crest easily. That draws my friends' notice; the hope blossoming on Yuan's face is more painful than I could imagine.

At my command, the Crystal flies across the Holy Ground, gaining speed like a shining comet. I have seen the Mana Cannon, Thor's Hammer, fired against its wielder's enemies, and in some distantly ironic way, I think I now resemble that burst of power. I suppose that could be taken as a sort of proof that power is itself neither good nor evil, but can be used for both.

I make contact with the last sapling, all that remains of the once-mighty Giant Tree, and welcome it with the open heart I have always tried to have for the world's wonders. _I will help you_, I tell it, for something so alive must have an understanding of communication, _in any way I can. Take this Crystal, let it shield you against the dangers of the world. Create a legacy for another generation._

_You offer all that you have left to me._ It speaks, but I'm not startled in the slightest. More interesting is that the Tree of life can be taken by surprise, or so its tone suggests– but then I realise that it is speaking with _my_ voice. We are one.

_I offer what I can give to ensure the future of all that has yet to be._

I am the Tree now, as much as it is Martel, and its words fill my world.

_Then let us make a Great Seed._

And then there was light.


End file.
